The Chaos Chronicles

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  /That doesn't mean it's going to welcome contact./

  No. Just that it is desperate.

  Bandicut waited. The factory had raised this issue, and it seemed to have an opinion it wanted to express regarding course of action.

  To assist you would require authorization to exceed my original mandate and limitations. Reason: factory involvement in the chain of contact could jeopardize primary factory operations. However, I can point out that analysis suggests that an instrument of communication can be fabricated. If you have your own design for such a—

  /No./

  Then I can offer my own design, which I could manufacture and deploy, if authorized to do so. Do you instruct me to attempt this?

  Swirling mists of uncertainty, anxiety, anticipation . . .

  /Mokin' foke yes, I instruct you—/

  Unclarity. Please restate.

  /Yes. Yes—I instruct you to do this thing./

  You authorize, on behalf of the Neri?

  /Yes! On behalf of the Neri./

  Firing synapses. Lightheadedness. A snowstorm of sparkling plankton against a dark sea, like stars of the galaxy against the night. Program is now activated.

  Bandicut drew a breath. /That's it? You were just waiting for authorization?/

  Rapidly flickering checks and rechecks, configurations established. Raw materials sufficient; energy sufficient; assemblers being programmed. Spiraling orbits, wheels spinning in darkness. Yes. And materials.

  Strobing views, too fast to be assimilated: fluid-filled chambers / plumes of chemicals / nano-assemblers riding the streams / skeletons rippling in laserlight / clouds of piranhas tearing apart and putting back together, at furious speed . . .

  /How long?/

  Zigzag pattern of shooting stars, electric arcs. Nearly ready. Time grows short. Eruption is imminent. Are you prepared to descend into the abyss?

  /WHAT?/ His heart nearly jumped out of his chest. /What do you mean?/

  Are you prepared to descend into the abyss?

  /I heard that. But—/

  Spiraling clouds of light, funneling toward a black hole, toward nothingness, toward—

  This contact must be face to face, in person.

  Bandicut stared dumbfounded at the images, and suddenly saw in them the swirling winds of chaos that had brought him here, and the deliberate machinations of the powers of Shipworld, as well. And he thought of the time not that long ago when he and his friends had had to face down a thing called the boojum in the terrible emptiness of a reality that only the magellan-fish understood, and he thought, No, God damn no, it's happening again, it's happening again . . . just like when the translator called me out of that godforsaken cavern on Triton . . .

  And he knew there was no choice, really no choice, if he wanted to help the Neri survive; and in those spiraling clouds of the factory's images, he saw the currents of chaos rising and falling finally into place, like an interlocking puzzle, an intersecting tangle of currents that had brought him inexorably to this last great trial in the depths of the sea. And he thought, /Damn you, stones, if you know what this is really all about, you had better give me some answers, and give them to me now./

  And came an answering whisper:

  *We will. When we know. Soon.*

  He shuddered in helpless fury and said, /I will do this for my friends, for the Neri. And I will await your answers soon. Damn it. Soon./

  The laserlight faded abruptly from his eyes and he blinked in stunned silence at the two robots.

  "Cap'n," said Copernicus. "If you're ready, permission for the two of us to join you in the bubble?"

  Chapter 33

  Into the Abyss

  IT WAS ALL happening so fast . . .

  The robots had joined Bandicut in the star-spanner bubble, Napoleon carrying a strange object like a silver starfish—part of the communications device, apparently. Even as Bandicut looked around, dazed to find himself back in the undersea realm, he heard an audible voice from the device Napoleon was holding.

  "Back away from the entry port . . ."

  It was the voice of the factory. He recognized it, though he had never before heard it outside the direct link.

  Back away . . .

  L'Kell had heard the instruction and was already powering up to move the sub. The reason for the instruction became obvious a moment later, when the stern of Nabeck's sub poked through the membrane. The rest of the sub followed, as Nabeck also powered up and backed his sub out. As soon as he had enough clearance to turn, he swung his vessel around to face L'Kell's and S'Cali's, and Nabeck himself became visible, peering out into the sea. The view of his friends was no doubt welcome. But what Nabeck thought of the sight of Bandicut and the robots in the star-spanner bubble, Bandicut could not even guess.

  /// What's that? ///

  /Eh?/

  Something else had just appeared through the factory membrane—something very thin and silver and sparkling. It looked like a living thread, snaking out along the silty bottom; it was moving fast. It remained attached to the factory, as it grew outward, stretching longer and thinner. The leading end slipped toward the edge of the abyss, and then dropped away into darkness. Bandicut shivered a little as he watched it disappear.

  "We need to talk," he called down to L'Kell.

  The Neri winched the star-spanner bubble back into place over the sub's hatch. As he was waiting for the chance to return to the sub, Bandicut slowly became aware of a soft glow in the water that was not from the headlights. It was coming from the emptiness of the abyss. The Demon was stirring, perhaps awakened by whatever the factory had just sent down toward it.

  As quickly as he could, Bandicut opened the hatch and, leaving Napoleon and Copernicus on watch in the bubble, climbed down to rejoin his friends in the sub. As he tumbled into their midst, he practically wept with joy. "How much did you hear?" he asked, through a tangle of welcoming arms. He looked around into each of their faces. It was clear they'd had a lot more time to be afraid for him than he had had. He reassured them that he was completely unhurt.

  "Did you speak with it?" demanded L'Kell. "What happened? Did you speak with the factory?"

  They hadn't heard a word of it. He filled them in as best he could, but parts of it were hard to explain.

  "Dive to meet the Maw of the Abyss?" Li-Jared cried. "You can't be serious!"

  "I'm afraid I am. And you know something—I think my stones knew this was going to happen." The memory of the link was roiling in his mind like a bubbling pot—the memory of the stones promising to give him answers when they had them, but as if they knew most of the answers already and were just waiting to fill in the last details. "Most of it, anyway. And I think that's why they told me to bring all of you along on this expedition."

  "I, hrrm, have the same feeling about my own stones," Ik said, and peered thoughtfully out the viewport as if there were something else he wasn't ready to say yet.

  Li-Jared let out a twanging groan. Clearly the thought of diving into the deepest abyss, and confronting a machine of cataclysmic power on top of it, was almost more than he could take. Bandicut hardly blamed him; he was terrified, too.

  /// But don't you think it's the right thing to do? ///

  /How the hell would I know? The factory wants us to go; the stones want us to go; but for all I know, it's our death sentence. If it doesn't kill us outright, it'll scare us to death./

  /// I have a feeling, John,

  that the stones have more in mind

  than just contacting the Maw

  and stopping the eruptions. ///

  /What do you mean?/

  /// Well, they definitely have suspicions

  about the Maw, and its origins. ///

  /So—/

  /// So I'm not sure what it all means.

  But they want to find out more about it.

  And about who or what put it here.

  This is of great interest to them. ///

  /As much interest to them as saving the Neri?/ B
andicut thought, wondering suddenly if he'd been crediting the stones with the wrong motivation.

  /// Maybe as much. Maybe more. ///

  /And what do they want to do with this information once they get it?/

  /// I'm not sure.

  But I think it might mean moving on.

  Going elsewhere. ///

  Bandicut shivered.

  "John? Are you okay?" asked Antares, touching his arm. Her eyes were dark and round and full of worry.

  He blinked. "Yeah. Charlie thinks we should go ahead and make the dive. In case the extra opinion helps."

  Antares' eyes seemed to take a silent poll within the gloomy cockpit of the sub. It was evident that everyone was willing to go—even Li-Jared, who simply closed his eyes and said nothing. Ik touched the stones in the sides of his sculpted head and murmured his affirmation. As though to confirm the decision, there was a brighter flicker outside the sub, and a soft rumble. The comm squawked, and Nabeck—who at the moment was hovering closest to the drop-off—reported an increase in light activity over the ledge.

  S'Cali's voice came into the cockpit, asking L'Kell what they were going to do next. L'Kell told him to stand by, and faced his companions.

  "Can your sub go that deep?" Bandicut asked.

  "Risky, but it could be done," the Neri answered. "Power reserves could be a problem. And I would have to pressurize the compartment to a much deeper level. Can your bodies tolerate that?"

  "Probably not. But we could all ride in the star-spanner bubble, while you pilot the sub." Even as he said that, a tickle from the stones suggested that they agreed.

  The suggestion brought a fresh shudder from Li-Jared. At least inside the sub, he didn't have to look out unless he wanted to. In the star-spanner bubble, he would feel completely naked.

  "Can your bubble withstand such pressure?" L'Kell asked doubtfully.

  Before Bandicut could ask, Char responded,

  /// We think so.

  And it is capable of pressurizing

  if it detects the need. ///

  Bandicut nodded. "If our nerves can stand it, I think the bubble can."

  /// And if it does fail,

  at least it'll be over fast . . . ///

  *

  The descent into the abyss was like nothing Ik had ever imagined. They were alone now, crowded into the bubble; S'Cali and Nabeck had been sent homeward with the news of what they were attempting.

  It was like falling endlessly, following the path of a fine silver thread into darkness, into light. It was like falling into an aurora-filled night sky. The demon-fire flared with erratic intensity, sometimes seeming to shine up through all of the water below. That was impossible; the entire water column must be aglow. Ik half expected to see the bottom looming out of the depths, but he knew it was still far, far below.

  Some moments, it seemed to Ik that they were floating in space, or in one of the shadow-people's fractal-dimensional folds, where no harm could possibly befall them; the star-spanner bubble was made for precisely this sort of environment. At other times, he was aware only of the incredible crushing pressure of the ocean, squeezing squeezing, doing everything in nature's power to crush them out of existence—almost a sentient will to destroy, and them with only an invisible air bubble surrounding them. It made him wonder about the life after, and whether he was about to get a firsthand look.

  His companions were crowded around him in various positions: Bandicut standing silent in thought, Li-Jared crouched protectively, eyes squinting, trying to hold onto his sanity. Antares stood just behind Bandicut, not quite touching him, but clearly focusing her thoughts upon him and the support he would need. Something had transpired between them; there was a connection, an intimacy that had not existed before. Ik was glad for that, though he was aware that that, too, could bring problems. The robots clicked and muttered, gathering data.

  Three meters below, in the sub, L'Kell was probably wondering if he was piloting his friends to their deaths, and perhaps wondering too if he would ever return to his beloved city and its people. The odds certainly seemed against it.

  Ik, for his part, felt a strange calm. He wondered at his voice-stones, which were tickling in his temples, and clearly making preparation for something. He had a strong sense that he had an important role in what was to come.

  Through the shifting rays and curtains of light, he occasionally caught sight of the chasm wall, off to their left, where the thread of silver was still visible, dropping downward from the factory. Occasionally he saw small creatures moving along the wall. Some were fish, darting in and out of view; some were floating creatures of jelly and glass, sparkling out of the night like jewels, then vanishing abruptly. They seemed like tiny voyeurs, peeking at him and his mission.

  My mission? he thought suddenly, startled by the thought. Just what was his mission—or John Bandicut's, or Li-Jared's? They had been sent to this place from Shipworld, by someone who must have known that there was a crisis requiring intervention, by someone who thought there was at least a chance of the company succeeding in that intervention. But to what ultimate end?

  Ik found at the moment that he didn't care greatly, as long as he knew his immediate purpose: to do what they could to save L'Kell's people, and the Astari. And then perhaps to learn of what else was at stake.

  Could this job be accomplished by any one of them alone?

  The answer to that was clear. Ik sat on his haunches, his stones throbbing in his temples.

  *

  Time seemed almost frozen, moving in slow, erratic surges as they floated downward. Bandicut stared at the wall off to one side until he could stand it no longer, then stared down into the flashing darkness, his eye caught by the shadowy form of L'Kell's sub, alternately invisible in the dark and then silhouetted against the ghostly rays shining upward, from the Maw. Hairs prickled at the back of his neck, reminding him that every moment the bubble held against the crushing depth was a new miracle.

  The sea began to rumble audibly around them.

  Surely they were almost there. Surely.

  *

  It was like a flare in the night, a fusion burst. Bandicut peered, hoping for a better view. A diamond-shaped something of white light blossomed into a halo of radiance. And in its heart was a new kind of darkness, a darkness filled with myriad sparkles, splinters of brightness, pulsing and fading. Streaking down into the darkness, the silver thread from the factory was alive with fire. What was happening? Bandicut had only begun to wonder, when a strange and powerful outcry began to reverberate around him, shaking his thoughts like the cry of a terrified animal—or a short-circuiting machine, arcing into his thoughts and demanding demanding demanding that he set right the wrong and go through go through go through . . .

  *

  The robots were clamoring at him—was it Napoleon?—he couldn't tell, but a voice was calling, "John Bandicut, John Bandicut—"

  And he was able at last to summon the presence of mind to answer, in a hoarse voice that surely was inaudible against the crashing sounds that filled his head, though maybe not the bubble itself, "Yes I'm here, Nappy, I'm here."

  "We have contact, contact—"

  "That is good—"

  "The antenna and interface are working—" the silver starfish was flickering in Napoleon's hands "—but we have no translation, no understanding. The signal is confounding our analytical circuitry. I cannot even tell you what kind of signal it is."

  "Translation—you need translation—"

  That was not Bandicut's voice, even though he felt as though it were; it was Ik, staggering forward to crouch beside him, and together they peered over the nose of the submarine and saw sparkling, coruscating fire in the depths below. "What do you think?" Bandicut whispered, not looking at his friend.

  "I am ready."

  The bubble shook, as a tremor passed through it.

  Bandicut turned to gaze at his friend. Ik's eyes were clear, but filled with an inner Hraachee'an fire. The stone in his rig
ht temple was pulsating with light. "Ik?" Bandicut said, suddenly understanding. "Are you going to share your stones with that?" He pointed down into the fire of the Maw.

  "Hrrll. Is it not what we need?" Ik's voice sounded distracted, as though some other conversation were vying for his attention.

  "Yes, but—" Was it possible to do this, to share stones with a thing like that?

  /// We think so. ///

  Stunned, Bandicut thought, /Then . . . it is what we need. Exactly what we need. And that's why the stones wanted Ik here, isn't it?/

  /// One reason . . . ///

  Bandicut nodded slowly to Ik. "I think you're right. I'll help if I can," he murmured. "Are your stones ready?"

  "Hrrm, they have been waiting for this, I think." Ik nodded as though some understanding were falling into place for him. He stood in the front of the bubble and stretched out his arms.

  "Napoleon, can you transmit that something is coming, something to help translate?"

  The robot clicked. "I do not seem able—"

  The bubble shook again with another tremor. The sub's maneuvering seemed sluggish. Through the confusion, Bandicut heard a distorted communication from L'Kell. "Having difficulty here. Conserving power . . ."

  /Damn. He said it'd be tight. We'll never make it back up, will we?/

  /// Weren't we all prepared

  for a one-way trip? ///

  /Yeah, I guess./ Bandicut drew a tight breath and called back, "We understand, L'Kell. You can turn off your lights, at least."

  "I've already done that," L'Kell answered.

  The Maw was putting out so much light now, Bandicut hadn't even noticed.

  "Urrr, attempting to make contact," Ik reported. There was a sudden twinkle, dazzling—and two sparks streaked out from his head, flashing through the star-spanner bubble as if it didn't exist. They flared downward, vanished into the ghost-lighted depths. Vanished. Nothing else happened.